


Inquisitor

by Kellyrages



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-01 14:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16766842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyrages/pseuds/Kellyrages
Summary: You know with the Anchor, your days are numbered, not to mention you're at war with Corypheus. Still, you can't help mooning over your military advisor Cullen. His commanding presence, strong arms, brooding expressions...





	1. Chapter 1

You sigh, your chin propped on your hand as you gaze down from the battlements of Skyhold castle. Look at him, bossing the soldiers around, throwing orders and them following. You love the way the sun hits his golden hair, how the red and brown fur on his armor makes him look so commanding.

He's just so... handsome.

You can remember the first time you ever saw him, even in chains and bring paraded around as a murderer you'd still taken a millisecond to admire him.

There's just something about a man who's a leader, who can be commanding... 

"Mooning after the commander again, are we?"

You straighten immediately with a flush, whirling around to stare at Cassandra, the Seeker who is always close to your side. She's become one of your closest friends and you treasure her --- just not always her opinion. 

She gazes at you, her lips tugged into a smirk as you flush, standing guilty at the stone wall where she knows it overlooks the troops; she knew she'd find you here, this is typically where you disappear off too.

You're so young, a human noble thrust out of her comfort zone and into the world she didn't ask for. You'd been so lost and confused when Cassandra first met you, meek almost. You've grown so much now, become so much stronger.

"No!" You deny immediately, crossing your arms. "I was just watching the training of our new soldiers."

"Among other things." The seeker chuckles, coming to stand beside you. She finds it humorous your crush on the knight commander, and how obvious it be to everyone but the man himself. You're quite obviously friends, he's relaxed around you --- or as much as the once Templar can be. 

"We're leaving for the Winter Palace soon," Cassandra says after a moment, feeling the breeze ruffle her short dark hair. It's been a long few weeks for everyone, especially you. You're always so positive with a smile for everyone and pointing out what good to find in every situation, but she can see the wear in your eyes, the stress building in the terse set of your shoulders.

You need a break.

"I know." You say, frowning. "But oh do I hate the politics there."

"Being a noble, I would think you were used to it."

"So says you of all people."

Cassandra chuckles. She'd never thought she'd grow to like someone like you, brought up so very much like herself and yet so very different. There's a quiet strength about you she admires and respects.

As does Cullen.

He has never said it to you, but Cassandra knows he thinks you brave and worthy of the respect of thousands. You've shown many times the warrior you can be. If he didn't think so, he never would have been part of the unanimous decision to make you Inquisitor.

"Come. Why don't you go and speak to him?" Cassandra asks after a moment, going to stand beside you. She's taller, more weathered in battle with black hair and a scar on her face she doesn't bother to hide; she's proud of every battle and victory she's had. You respect her for it.

"About? We've nothing to dicuss." You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, trying to look at everything but her. "We only speak of the inquisition."

"Have you tried other topics?"

Your silence is enough answer.

To be such a brave warrior, you can be such a shy girl.

"Do not worry yourself, Inquisitor. I believe if you should tell the commander of your feelings, you might be surprised." Cassandra says, amused. "He thinks fondly of you."

"We're friends, Cassandra, nothing more." You disagree immediately, straightening; you don't want her encouraging your inane fantasies --- they can never become reality. "I promised Cole I'd watch birds with him, I should go."

Oh yes, the spirit. Cassandra thinks you should run him off, it isn't safe having him around. However, you seem to have grown quite fond of him and simply won't let him leave. The seeker will acquiesce to your choice, whether she likes it or not.

She watches you hastily retreat, swiftly moving towards the door that leads to the top of the building Cole hunkers in.

Hmm.

~~~~~~~

You lie in bed, staring up at the arching ceiling of your quarters. You flex your fingers, feeling the mark ache on your skin. You haven't mentioned it, but the discomfort is steadily getting more and more. The more rifts you seal, the more demons you defeat, it seems like the pain gets worse as you get stronger. 

You lift your hand, gazing at it. You wear gloves most time, but the mark still bleeds through, ghastly green and reeking of the otherworldly Fade. Nothing you do makes it better, not tonics or treatments --- although honestly you've not mentioned it to anyone for anything to really be tried.

There's enough to worry about, your discomfort is the least of anyone's concern.

You roll onto your side, curling your arms beneath your thick pillow. You suppose your rooms are the most comfortable and extravagant of all of them, highly decorated and lush whereas the rest of the castle is still in need of repairs. You adore the room, they did well with it, but sometimes it makes you feel guilty when there are some who still sleep in tents in the courtyard.

You shouldn't be here.

Everything got so out of hand, so wild, you just... sort of lost track of what you were doing. You went with the flow of it, defended your friends and people you didn't even know --- you haven't spoken to your family since it began, but that's for the best. As a third child, you are the most dispensable, the reason you were sent to the Conclave and not your elder siblings.

You sigh, curling your legs closer.

You're having a hard time sleeping. You have horrible dreams, vague memories of your time in the Fade you wish you hadn't recovered from the Nightmare demon. You wish they would have stayed there, the demon had been right in the regard you didn't want them back. You don't even want to think about the outcome of that venture either.

You keep losing people, letting good men and women die for a cause you're still not sure of yourself. 

You lost Stroud, left the poor man behind to sacrifice his life so that you and your companions could escape. The guilt eats at you, but you know there hadn't been much of a choice. Abandoning him to fight the demon, letting him give his life just because he wanted to make up for the mistake of the Wardens... it wasn't fair.

But you couldn't leave Hawke behind, Varric's treasured friend.

Yet who are you to decide should someone live or die? 

That's...

You squirm again, grinding your teeth as your palm flares with heat. You jerk it from beneath your pillows, glaring at the green glow in the darkness of your room. Why is it aching so badly tonight? It throbbed on and off all day, like it does when you're nearing a rift. You'd ignored it for the most part, because you're at Skyhold, where you're safe.

It's your only haven now.

You shuffle, kicking the sheets restlessly off of you. You clench your hand as you rise to your feet, giving up on sleep for the time being. 

You wave your hand uselessly, like someone would with a burn as you begin to pace. You find your way onto the balcony, bare feet soaking up the cold of the stone as you look out over Skyhold. It's quiet,dotted with lights here and there --- in Cullen's room. You can barely see it from your tower, just a flickering lantern in a windowsill.

He's always working, up late at night. He's not taking Lyrium anymore, and you worry for him in that regard. Would it be better if he did? Would it help him? You detest the thought of him poisoning himself with it any longer, of it causing him grief and pain... an unnecessary addiction.

You bite your lip, wisps of your long blonde strands moving around your shoulders. The breeze makes you shiver, reminds you of how cold the season still is. You turn your head away from the sight below you, your mind flicking back to Haven, the snowy mountain, the dragon ---.

No, you're not going to remember right now.

One reason you don't want to let Cullen know of your crush is the fact you're going to die. You figure it'll happen eventually, simply because of, well, who you are. You're fighting Corypheus, you're the one thing standing directly in his way. The pain the mark causes you, you figure it'll eventually consume you, kill you.

It's like it's in your veins, seeping higher and higher through your arm, crawling across your skin. Will you completely be engulfed in its darkness before it's over? Perhaps it's best you walk that road alone, with no one to truly grieve over your loss.

It's safer that way.

You don't want to be selfish.

With a sigh, you turn away from the sight below, closing your balcony doors behind you. You could try to read for a few hours, maybe answer some letters Leliana keeps hounding you about. 

You ---.

You gasp as the ground suddenly moves, as the tower you reside in seems to rock in place. You stagger, grabbing hastily to the post of your bed as your head turns, seeing green suddenly engulfing everything --- what!?

~~~~~~~

"Cassandra! What's happening!?" You demand, wrenching your gloves onto your fingers as you race into the throne room. Cassandra stands with Cullen, her hand resting on her sword, soot streaking her face --- you know there's fires, you saw the smoke the moment the rift opened above the battlements.

"There's a tear in the Veil, right above us, Inquisitor," Cassandra turns to address you, her face grim. Cullen stands behind her, that dark, familiar look on his face. Of course the two of them found each other immediately, you're not surprised.

"I can see that. Is anyone hurt?" You curl your fingers, finding comfort in the sword that rests at your hip; you're no rogue, you've never been much with a bow, but swinging a sword --- well, that's what you know to do.

"Some minor injuries from the initial tear, and some burns from the fires caused, but no deaths. There's yet to be any demons released as far as we can tell."

"Cole?"

"I've yet to see him."

You worry about him disappearing during something like this.

"Alright, find me Dorian and Bull --- we'll take care of this." You say, taking a step back. You're not wearing all of your armor, you hadn't time to strap yourself into it. You're still wearing the casual clothing of Skyhold. 

"Inquisitor ---."

"No buts, there isn't time! Tell them to meet me at the tavern," you interrupt her, your eyes flicking to Cullen for only a moment, you can't help yourself. You hastily avert your gaze, causing your eyes to brush right over his as you whirl around, striding purposefully for the doors. Two guards hold them open for you as you walk outside, raising your hand to shield your eyes against the green glare above you.

Damned rifts.

Your hand throbs in response.

So it had been giving you warning the entire time, you just didn't realize it. How foolish of you --- you should have taken it more seriously!

If anyone dies, that'll be on your head.

"Boss!"

"Bull," you start down the stone steps, seeing the Qunari waiting for you at the bottom, the lithe mage at this side; you figured the two of them would be together.

"We must shut that rift," you gasp as you reach the bottom, skipping the last few steps. "Before any demons get out."

"Bit late for that," Dorian sighs. "I can see them right below the rift, no doubt taking over the battlements as we speak."

Oh no, the soldiers!

"Then there's no time for us to waste." You say resolutely. "Where's Sera?"

"Lord knows where that elf has gotten too. She ---."

"Stays in the tavern, like Cole," you fret. What if she's trapped inside? What if they both are? Would they be able to get out? Do they need help?

"I'll check the tavern."

You look back, seeing the knight-commander descending behind you quickly, armor clanking. The shadows on his face shift with that of the rift, and You don't like the green glow it casts on his summer-toned skin. He shouldn't be anywhere near a rift, his days of fighting, well, they're reserved to charts and strategies now.

You don't want him fighting at all.

"No, Dorian and Bull can handle the tavern." You disagree instantly. "Bulls familiar most with it anyhow. I'll make a run for the stairs, and ---."

"You can't fight all the demons yourself, boss." Bull snorts, frowning, his eyes one centered on you. "We got your back."

"Bull ---."

"The others are capable of taking care of themselves. You need to close the rift before it grows worse." Cullen says, coming to stand beside you; you can smell him, that scent that's books and paper. Your eyes rove to his face of their own accord. "I'll check the tavern, you go on."

His warm hand lands on your shoulder, and he's painfully aware you wear no armor. You must not have had time to don it, which is worrisome --- Bull is thick skinned, Dorian wears magic as his shield, but you... well, it'll have to be alright. You're the only one who can protect the hold, keep the demons out. You have to close the rift.

"Inquisitor..."

"Fine, we'll go." You step away, his hand dropping from your shoulder; your skin burns where he's touched you, as if he brings every nerve inside of you to life. If you had your druthers you'd never move. "Come on, we'll find the others along the way," you tell Bull and Dorian, ignoring the look they share. "I'm sure this is going to be interesting."

"Well, it's always a right party here, wild nights, frolicking demons ready to listen to Bull's lovely singing." Dorian says lightly, and you roll your eyes, trekking immediately towards the stairs leading up --- you see Cullen dart off in the corner of your eye.

Please be safe, is all you can think.

You draw your sword as you stride forward, seeing your soldiers dashing about, civilians running or fleeing --- chaos.

You hate chaos.

"Stand your ground!" You burst thoughtlessly, your voice cutting through the panic. "Get the fires out, search for injured!"

"Y-yes, Inquisitor!"

"Aye!"

You grind your teeth, reaching the bottom of the stairs. You tilt your head back, seeing ---.

"Demons!"

~~~~~~~

You yelp as you're blown back by the backlash, your feet leaving the ground. You hit the dirt hard, rolling to a stop in the underbrush. Stupid rage demon! You hate it when they do that! You struggle to your feet, feeling your torso protest with the movement. You're sore, and you're pretty sure you landed in a brier patch as well.

Doesn't anyone garden around here!?

You stagger to your feet, narrowing your gaze as Bull swings his giant mace, knocking the demon for a somersault before mercilessly hammering at it. Dorian strikes it from a distance, lightning bursting through the air, momentarily blinding you with its brightness --- he always has such a flair.

"Go on, Boss!" Bull shouts, grunting as he slings his mace again, gray hands clutched tightly around the thick base. You hesitate only for a second before darting forward, slipping easily around the large demon, feeling the heat from its skin prickle your own.

You hate those the most.

You're winded as you make it up the stairs, taking the corner sharply. Every step is jarring, the air is so thick and the ground reverberates with battle. Everyone is gathered inside the castle, the doors shut --- whoever is left outside has to fight until the last demon is down.

You'd made that call, to protect the innocents inside.

You hope you don't cost too many lives.

All you hear is shouting and fighting, the bellows of rage demons and screeches of wraiths.

Your palm burns, already wisps reaching outward from your skin. The Anchor is eager to greet the fade, of that you've no doubt. It keeps getting more and more powerful, and that worries you. Yet what else can you do? You can't leave the rifts open, you can't let the monsters free and hurt the people of Thedas.

You have to do something.

"Alright, out of my way," you growl, seeing the minor demons blocking your path. You yell as you start forward, striking them down, casting one off the stairs and falling down onto the earth below. You can hear Bull's hardy laughter, so the battle must at least be going in your favor, right?

Please.

Oh, how you tire of this.

You could really use a potion about now. You didn't have but two on you when you ran out.

You make it to the top of the battlements, seeing the giant tear in the sky not far from you. It hovers above the tavern almost directly, so you pray the others inside had been saved, or gotten out in time. Did Cullen make it? Did he get Cole and Sera? 

What's that sound?

You glance behind you, seeing Cullen's study door is missing, wooden splinters decorating the ground. It looks as if something had punched right through the door, which is rather unfortunate; Cullen is so fond of his privacy.

Your head turns back to the rift, and you move forward, feeling like every step gets worse and worse. Your hand draws you forward as the rift pushes you back, knowing you come to stop it. It's so silly, that this should be so difficult; you're simply closing a door! A stupid, ugly green door that no one likes.

"Stupid," you mumble to yourself, feeling your hand begin to spark as you get within distance. You shield your eyes as you push your hand forward, lights immediately thrusting forth, connecting you to the rift, to the Fade, to the ---.

You yelp as you're knocked backward, the ogre charging at you right through the center of the tear. Your connection breaks instantly as you slam into the hard stone, rolling immediately to your feet as you clutch at your sword.

Shit!

Your hand presses against your side where it twinges, no doubt a fist print left there from how hard it hit you.

You hate ogres.

Darkspawn trash.

"You'll regret that," you huff, tightening your hold on your sword. Pieces of your hair fall into your eyes, making it harder for you to see, to concentrate. You almost feel sick, your skin is streaked with sweat, you're weaving --- you need a potion!

The ogre gives that hideous laugh, so dark and taunting, sneering at you. You hate it's kind, the merciless, ruthless way it cuts through even it's own kind if they stand in its way. 

Both your hands curl around your sword, steadying yourself. The wind is causing your hair to move, and it would be so dark if not for the rift. The chaos below you won't stop until you get this rift closed, so you can't waste any time! You have to get rid of the ogre!

If only you could just shove him off the side of the castle like you'd seen Bull toss an assassin.

If only you were stronger.

You charge forward brazenly, swinging your sword with a yell. You strike heavily at the ogre, sending it bellowing with rage before swiping at you. You duck just in time.

You slip under it, curving around to stab your sword at its knees, hoping to cut it down. You can't hear it yelling anymore, the noise of the Rift is so loud and overbearing it's hard to keep your senses! You don't like being so close to them, they draw you in, and you worry --- you worry if you get too close, it'll drag you in and you'll never return.

You'll be trapped like before, with the Nightmare demon. Except this time there will be no guiding spirit to release you.

You wrench your sword back, and thoughtlessly lunge onto the back of the ogre. You cling to the foul smelling cloth it wears, digging your nails onto the leather armor at its shoulders as it furiously tries to sling you off. You growl as you hold on tight, your sword clenched in your hand --- if you can just get it to hold still ---!

There!

Your sword slices cleanly through the ogres throat, and you thrust it into the center of its back when it falls to its knees, just in case; their skin might be thick at its throat, you don't want any chances. 

You glance behind you, cutting your eyes at the malevolent Rift as green tendrils lash at the air around it, steadily growing larger with every second you waste. You need a potion, but you're terrified to waste those crucial few seconds to drink it, not with the chance of releasing another demon.

You turn, thrusting your hand forward, feeling that immediate draw. You grind your teeth as you raise your other to shield your eyes, your feet starting to slide against the harsh stone of the battlements --- the ogre is already dissolving.

Just a few more seconds!

It hurts terribly, like someone is stabbing your hand with pins and needles and then zapping you with electricity, drawing every bit of energy you have out of you. It never used to feel so bad, it's only lately that it's started, and the more Rifts you seal, the more ---.

"Inquisitor!" 

Huh?

You glance over just as the Rift decides to seal, and you flinch at the aftershock of power it throws out, causing you to stagger several steps back, losing your balance. You fall hard into the stone wall, hissing at the pain in your shoulder.

Stupid thing.

Oh.

Oh no.

You feel the panic in your chest explode as the wall starts to give, and you shift, you try to push away but honestly it's falling so fast and you don't have the strength and ---.

The wall collapses outward, falling dozens of feet down onto the rocky slope below, and you can hear it smashing and crumbling as it goes.

You, however, are fine. You're leaning dangerously far back over the edge, your heels almost off the rock, but Cullens hand is wrapped so tightly around your wrist you fear for your circulation. 

You've never been so happy to see him in your life!

He jerks, and you stagger forward, legs nearly giving as he gets you away from the edge. You feel his other arm wrap around you supportively, holding you against his warm chest, the fur of his collar keeping your face warm.

Cullen...

"BOSS!"

You hear Bull, but your eyes are lifting up, meeting the Commanders. He had soot streaking his face, his collar is a little singed, and his hair looks so dark without the Rift casting any light.

Your ears are still roaring, and you're breathing hard, limbs tingling and muscles jerking. Your heart is still hammering against your chest, and yet somehow you feel perfectly fine.

"Are you alright, Inquisitor?" Cullen asks softly, you're not even sure how you hear him. You nod your head, taking just a few seconds to close your eyes, resting your forehead against his chest for just, just one stolen moment ---.

Books, how can he smell of paper and ink still? How do you find such a scent so comforting when you thought you were about to die for the hundredth time? You'd think you'd be used to the feeling of imminent death by now, considering.

Cullen hesitates, but he doesn't move, keeping his back to the stairs where your other companions would be approaching. You're trembling against him, no doubt the adrenaline and shock, your fingers curled tight into his shirt. He doesn't think he's ever been so close to you, been so worried.

He'd checked for Cole and Sera and found them both fine, so of course he'd gone racing for the Rift where you were alone. He's going to tear Bull and Dorian a new one for letting you be by yourself during a time like this, he doesn't care that they were fighting themselves! You needed backup, you nearly fell to your death! 

"Have you any potions?" Cullen asks, and you feel his fingers brush through your long hair, keeping it from your face. It feels nice, no one has played with your hair in ages. 

"Yes." You sigh, and reluctantly lean away from him. "I have some."

You should thank him for saving your life, shouldn't you? If he hadn't grabbed you, you would have toppled down and no doubt died. 

"Thank you, Cullen," you say after a moment, looking up at him. "If you hadn't grabbed me ---."

"You shouldn't have been up here by yourself," he interrupts, shaking his head. "Bull and Dorian ---."

"They were following my orders to protect the civilians," you say before he goes into one of his rants, sighing. You turn away from him, looking for your sword. "I told them to stay since the castle doors were shut. To protect who they could."

Cullen frowns, and you take a few steps away to grab your sword. You reach for it, only to stop, seeing the green crawling across your skin, your veins ---.

"Inquisitor!"

~~~~~

Well that was embarrassing. 

"Stop fussing, I'm fine," you huff, waving away Josephine as she pushes another potion across the war table, as if you wouldn't notice! She doesn't need to baby you!

Well, you also sort of collapsed the other day and slept for thirty six hours in a near comatose state, but you woke up just fine! Your body just needed to recover from the Rift, that's all.

Still. It's worrisome and you know it. You realize the others are quickly becoming aware that not all is... well, that your mark is becoming increasingly dangerous. For you, anyhow.

"I am... concerned, Inquisitor, that is all. We only wish for you to be well," she says, holding her clipboard to her. Her dark eyes are soft, yet serious as they gaze upon you. "We were all worried after the attack last week."

"It was a big rift," you defend yourself.

"You've takendown four in a day and not even broke a sweat," Leliana says, the spy master crossing her arms. Her gaze unnerves you, just like always. It's like they're always calculating your next move, reaching deep into your soul to learn all of your secrets.

You don't appreciate it.

You just shrug in response, turning your attention to the table. Leliana and Josephine share a look around Cullen where he stands between them, not saying a word. He's unusually quiet you've noticed, but it's been a long few days.

Skyhold now needs more repairs, more supplies. It's a never ending stream of needing people and materials, and th gates seem like they're always open.

How does all of it not go into chaos?

You curl your fingers against the table as Josephine tells you of the reports, from the tiniest rumors to the needs of your soldiers. She reminds you to write letters to some foreign dignitaries, to address a matter with Empress Celene, about the memorial in Haven. 

Does all of it really need your approval? 

What does any of that matter? Can't one of them just sign your name to the paper and call it a day? You don't have the time to care, you're too worried about Corupheus. 

You chew your lip, your blonde hair falling around your eyes. You've at least stabilized the Hinterlands for a brief time with your soldiers, for which King Alistair seems pleased with, but there's still so much to be done there.

"Where's the last shipment of horses?" You ask, bracing your hands against the table and leaning your weight on them. 

"Set to arrive soon for the soldiers. The Empress is also sending some chevaliers to the border to ensure their easy arrival." Josephine replies, ticking boxes off on her checklist with her feathered quill; you like listening to her speak, her accent is so pretty. "She sends her regards."

"Of course she does." You sigh, your hands going to your hips. "Do we really have to go back and see her again? Shouldn't us saving her life be a good show of faith?" 

"You would think," Cullen scoffs, crossing his arms. "But we are not so lucky."

You're Never Lucky.

Your mind briefly flicks to your family, and you miss them a little. Being the third child of course meant you would get little when it came to inheritance and it also meant you'd have to one day find a way to support yourself --- marriage, but you've never been the sort. 

You came to the conclave at your parents behest, and honestly it offered a little adventure, so why not? You just never imagined it would get so out of control.

You never wanted something like this.

Who would? 

"Inquisitor?"

Your eyes flick up from the table, and you realize Leliana has asked you a question, twice. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked what you wish to do about the dracolisk. Did you wish for us to round him up for you? I know you were wanting a new mount."

You frown; you'd made an off comment a few weeks ago about how slow your horse seems to be, you think he's getting too old and needs a nice pasture to spend the rest of his days in. You didn't realize they paid that much attention to what you say, but you shouldn't be surprised; nothing gets past the spymaster.

"If you wish. I've heard their... unique."

"You definitely won't see anyone else riding one," Josephine chuckles, looking thoughtful. "Won't that be a sight for our Inquisitor? Riding in on one of those beasts. I'll make sure we get it here as soon as possible." She brightens slightly, as if excited.

Right.

You have a reputation to uphold, after all. Why not parade you around even more?

"I'm retiring to my quarters," you rub your eyes wearily, knowing it's early but deciding it's for the best; perhaps you can get some rest tonight, if you try before your thoughts catch up with you. Or, perhaps, you should go drinking with Bull again, that usually knocks you out on your ass fairly quickly. "Don't burn the castle down or start any wars while I'm gone, alright?"

"No promises." Leliana says lightly, crossing her arms. You make sure to avoid her line of sight as you turn away, heading for the door. She waits until the doors are firmly shut and your footsteps have faded before turning to the others.

"We need to talk about it."

"Can we not?" Josephine says, uncomfortable as she takes a few steps away. "I believe she's doing quite well."

"It is the Anchor, Josie. It is eating her alive." The spymaster replies, and the ambassador sighs. "You can see it, can't you? Cullen?"

"Yes, I've noticed her..."

"Her hand glowing, how it's appearing higher and higher up her arm." Leliana steps to the head of the war table, the large map drawn across it, regions marked here and there, books on the edges so the thick paper doesn't curl. Candles burn on one stack, wax dripping down into pools on the surface. "That last rift brought her down. She just won't admit it."

"She's stubborn, but she's strong. Don't underestimate her," Cullen shakes his blonde head. His eyes are serious, the look only heightened by the dark circles beneath them. "She's been holding it together. After that envy demon messing around in her head --- it takes a long time to recover from something like that." He mutters, his memory flicking to when the demons had picked and pulled at his own when his Circle tower fell. He knows what you must have went through while no one else knew anything was happening.

"She came through as if that was nothing." Leliana scoffs, waving away his claim easily. "Her mental state is impeccable, it is the physical that concerns me. If we do not win this war soon, we'll be the ones waving her arm around without the rest of her attacked."

"Leliana!" Josephine gasps, horrified. "Do not say such things!"

"It has crossed all of our minds and you know it. One of us just has to say it."

"The Inquisitor is going to be just fine!" Josephine refuses to back down, setting her board on the table sharply, her candle flickering dangerously. "You put little faith in her!"

"I have much faith in her, otherwise I would not be here." Leliana retorts. "But we must face the facts; she's not getting better."

"Cullen!" Josephine looks at him pointedly, the candles flickering causing shadows to dance across her already dark skin. 

Cullen doesn't immediately answer, a brooding look on his face. He knows Leliana is right, but there's not much that can be done for you. "Has anyone consulted Solas on this matter? He is most in touch with the fade and this type of magic. Perhaps he could offer some advice."

"His advice was to sever her arm." Leliana says flatly; she's already tried that route. "Somehow I don't believe the Inquisitor will go for that."

"Leave her be, for now. There's nothing we can do but hope to win this war. We're so close to finding out what Corypheus is after, what he's hunting ---." Cullen's fists clench as he stares at the war table, at the lines drawn across it, the placement of troops and major battles. "We can't doubt her now, we must give her our full support, nothing else."

Leliana sighs, knowing she's not getting anywhere with either of them. "The Inquisitor does not believe she's going to live to see this through, you're both aware of that, yes?"

Neither answer her.

"Very well, pretend everything is fine. But mark my words," Leliana warns, reaching forward to pinch the flame of a candle between her fingertips, casting her into darkness. "We must do something if we intend to keep her around."

~~~~~~~

Bloody hell.

You shuffle again, tossing yourself onto your back with a huff as you stare at the arches of your bed posts. You dozed for a few hours, but that's all your body could take. You wish there was some way to distract yourself, to trick your mind, but it proves impossible.

Should you look into sleeping tonics? You're interested, but what if you do and you sleep through another fade rift opening above? That's not something you can risk.

Still... you don't need to fall asleep on your horse again, Dorian still teases you about it.

You're just... so tired all the time.

You roll onto your side, curling your arms around a pillow with a shiver. Despite the fire, it's cold in the tower, and you have to admit, quite lonely. You used to enjoy coming up here for peace, but now it just reminds you of how it was living as a noble.

Perhaps it's best you're not close with your family, that you're keeping everyone at a distance still. You lift your fingers, watching the faint light circling your palm. The fireplace gives off enough light to see by, and that's how you like it --- you can't stand the dark. 

You twist your hand above you.

How long until it kills you?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is worried about you after the discussion at the war table. He goes to your quarters to talk, but the conversation doesn't exactly go as planned. You get your one night with him, but at what cost?

Cullen hesitates at your door, his hand poised to knock. He gives it a couple seconds before his knuckles rap against the heavy wood, the sound echoing loudly in his ears and making him want to cringe.

He shouldn't be doing this, but he can't help it. He's been thinking about everything Leliana said to him, about what could happen to you, how your mark has been bothering you. He's seen you rubbing your hand, always keeping them in your pockets or clenching your fists --- you're not that emotional, you're in pain.

He's no fool.

When you don't answer, he knocks again, this time more urgently. It's not quite late yet, although you did retire early this night. If you don't answer, he's honestly just going to barge in and wake you, he has important business after all. Although, you don't look like you're sleeping that well lately, so perhaps he really could postpone the conversation for a fortnight ---.

Your door opens, and there you stand, rubbing your eyes so childishly. Your blonde hair frames your face in wisps, and you look tired, although not as if you've been resting. You're wearing your normal attire, although he's a bit disappointed you don't change into anything for sleeping --- although he definitely does not think about such things!

"Cullen?" You're surprised to see him standing there, blonde hair messed and cheeks looking pink. "Is everything alright?"

What's your military adviser doing outside your quarters?

Your eyes flick over him, as they always do. He wears that red-brown mane of fur over his armor, which is worn and scratched but clearly cared for. He looks ready to charge into war at any moment's notice, ready to carry the weight of the world with him. You wonder if he knows what a commanding presence he has, or how much you'd love to run your fingers across his stubbled jaw and kiss every scar he has.

"Is it alright if I come in? I wish to... speak with you on delicate matter." He asks, glancing down the hallway; he doubts anyone saw him come this way, but he wants to be sure. 

You hesitate, then nod, taking a few steps back so he can enter. He strides past you with purpose, heading up the stone stairwell into your quarters as if its regular for him. You stifle a yawn as you close your door behind him before following slowly.

You're too tired for this.

"Cullen, can we make this quick?" You ask as you follow him, hoping he doesn't go near your desk; you were writing some... private letters that he shouldn't see. "I was hoping to rest."

"My apologies, Inquisitor, but I felt it best to speak to you now," Cullen replies, turning to look at you over his shoulder, the fire reflecting in his brown eyes. "It's quite important."

"Is it?" You fiddle nervously with your sleeve, acutely aware he's alone, in your quarters, where your bed is. How many nights have you thought about him being there with you? Not even sexually, just... holding you, being there, playing with your hair like you so adore. No one's just held you in ages. "Is something the matter?"

"Inquisitor... (Y/N)," your eyes immediately go to his, "it's come to my attention that, well," Cullen actually fidgets where he stands, immediately letting you know this isn't official business; he never has an issue when it comes to the soldiers or their training, or expressing his opinion on official matters. This is something else.

"What's come to your attention?" You ask when he doesn't continue, and is he blushing? You're sure he is, but it could be a trick of the light. You gingerly sit down on the edge of your bed, curling your hands in your lap as you gaze at him. "Cullen?"

"You're not feeling well," he finishes lamely, cursing himself for not being more... couth. "The Anchor, it's hurting you, isn't it?"

Oh.

You blink at him, surprised. You didn't expect the conversation to be about that.

"Well, it's not exactly comfortable, but it's fine." You reply, shrugging your shoulders. 

"Josephine and Leliana are going to look into what we can do about removing the mark, once all this Rift business has concluded," Cullen states, clasping his hands behind his back as he rocks on his heels.

You curl delicate fingers around the post of your bed, gazing at him. He has no idea how much you like the way he dresses, how much you think about what he must look like without as well. His leather trousers are comfortable, but the plate on his chest, so shiny, although open just enough to see there's definitely no Templar sword on it --- does he realize he dresses to emphasize he's no longer one of them?

Cullen shifts as he realizes your eyes are trailing down him slowly, and you appear to be lost in thought. He hesitates, notices the weariness on your face, and you've not responded to his news, not even to protest.

"Inquisi...tor?" He asks, and your eyes fly to his face, almost guiltily.

Are you blushing?

"Yes? What? I'm sorry." You shift, running a glowing hand through your mess of hair. "They're looking into tonics?"

"Yes, although Josephine didn't believe we should say anything less we found nothing useful."

"I doubt you will, truly. Solas states the only way to stop the advancement is to remove my arm," you snort, gazing at your hand. 

Ah, so you've spoke to the mage.

"I feel his measure to be... rather extreme." Cullen says carefully, and you look amused.

"Well, at least we know that would work. I, however, am rather fond of this arm." You let your hand drop to your lap, crossing your legs. "So I've not given the option much thought."

"I suppose it's good not too."

"Mmm." You're not surprised they're talking about you, perhaps you're not hiding your discomfort as well as you had thought. 

"Is that all, Cullen? You just... wanted me to know that?" You ask after a moment when it grows quiet; your eyes are on the desk behind him, you wish he'd take a few steps away from it so he couldn't so easily read what's there.

"Oh, yes, well... yes. I suppose. I just thought you should know."

"Well, I'm very glad you told me," you say, getting to your feet; sitting on the bed is giving your mind too much ammunition. "But I'm afraid there's going to be no resolution, no one knows anything about this type of thing." You gesture with your glowing hand. "Unless we can ask Corypheus, but he already failed at removing it."

Yes, that.

Cullen's brows draw together at the reminder. He'd thought they were all going to die that night, that the dragon would kill everyone. They had not been prepared for an assault of such magnitude, and whatever hope they'd had at succeeding had been dampered by the flying beast ---.

You'd surprised him that night. You were so willing to face Corypheus then, to sacrifice yourself if it meant so many people living. He hadn't liked the idea, but what other choice had they had but to offer you as a distraction? Praise the Maker that you somehow survived it, it should have been impossible --- a mountain fell on you!

He never should have let you do that.

He'd intended to at least put up one hell of a fight, to go out swinging until the bitter end. He'd resolved he would really make them work to slaughter them, until there was another option. 

You keep saving everyone.

"I... admire your resolve, Inquisitor." He says after a moment, and you look surprised. "I must confess, you've surprised me many times over these months. You're stronger then you think, you mustn't doubt that. You've survived more opposition then any of us at this point."

Oh.

"Cullen, that's... very sweet." You flush, tightening your hold around your bed post. "But you --- look at what you've been through. A Blight, the tower, Kirkwall, and now this... it's clear who the real survivor is. It's no wonder your soldiers all respect you, that they follow you so."

"They follow the Inquisition."

"They follow the orders of the man who trains them," you correct, taking a step forward, wanting to get a better look at him. "They respect you, and rightly so. You deserve it."

"Do I?" He shakes his head. "They've no idea the horrors I've done."

"We've all done terrible things," you don't want him thinking that way, he's a wonderful man! He'd sacrifice himself to save an innocent without another thought and never ask for anything in return! He's amazing, and strong, and ---. "But we don't let that hold us back. You're a good man, Cullen. A wonderful man."

You think he's wonderful?

"Wonderful?" He's amused by your choice of words. He looks down at you, knowing you're only an arms reach away from him now. He could touch your cheek, brush your hair behind your ear. His eyes are on yours, never wavering.

What is it about you that's so drawing?

Is it your quiet strength? Your resolve to do right? Your will of steel?

"Wonderful," you affirm, giving him a small smile. "Brave. Impressive. Commanding."

You're making him blush again.

He doesn't feel very commanding, he feels a failure sometimes, especially when he struggles with Lyrium. It taunts him, makes him weak --- he can't give the Inquisition his all, he can't give everything, if something like that keeps holding him back.

"I think you're courageous," you say, just to tease a little more. "Lionhearted."

Now he rolls his eyes, finally chuckling at your choice of words. 

"You flatter me."

"I hope so." Wait, what are you doing? Are you flirting with him?

You hesitate, realizing what you're doing and hastily taking a step back. You can't do that, it just seems too easy with him, so natural. You enjoy bantering back and forth, you find yourself relaxing. Still, you're basically a walking time bomb, a ---.

"(Y/N)."

You wish he wouldn't say your name like that, or at all, really.

Your eyes guiltily rove to his face, and you realize he's right in front of you now, the fire at his back. You hungrily drink in his appearance, how the fire highlights him, casts shadows down his cheek. You inhale deeply, the scent of paper and ink --- how comforting.

"Cullen." You don't break eye contact, you don't dare to even blink. You don't want to lose the moment, it's the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes seem so dark suddenly. Are they always like that? Why have you never noticed those flecks of gold before?

Is it suddenly very warm?

It seems warm.

You grow still as his leather gloved hand suddenly tucks your hair behind your ear, and you blink in surprise. You're even more surprised at how you turn your cheek to his touch, his warmth immediately heating your own skin.

"Cullen ---."

He kisses you.

You go still instantly as his warm lips descend on yours. They're so soft, so gentle, it's as if every single part of you melts into him despite your intentions of pulling away.

He's kissing you, and you're not dreaming!

You don't even realize you're kissing him back until your fingers curl into the fur at his neck, holding him close where he can't pull away. You can feel your pulse race as his hand curves at your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

Oh.

How nice.

He's so tentative at first, his lips a mere brush against your own before settling fully. You like how warm he is, how careful each kiss is, the pressure gradually increasing until your lips are parting. Why are you giving into him? You shouldn't be doing this, you shouldn't, but it's too hard to give up.

Your fingers slip into his soft hair, his thumb caressing your cheek.

Are you sure you're not dreaming?

You're really kissing Cullen, this isn't some Fade trick?

You sigh into him.

How far does he want to take this? Will you regret one night with him?

Would one night hurt that much? You were always wary he would reject you should you make any advances, and of course there was the fact you were dying. Well, sort of. He knows that, doesn't he? He knows you are on borrowed time.

So why is he doing this?

You should stop, you should pull away, you ---.

Oh but that's so nice, why does his tongue know to do that? How does he know to kiss so well?

Is that your bed pressing against your thighs? When did you move backward?

"Mmph, Cullen, wait ---." You press against his shoulders before it goes too far, needing to gather your wits before they finish escaping. He stops immediately, his lips drawing away from yours without a fight.

"Too much?" he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. He's just been wanting to kiss you far longer then he cares to admit, and you didn't reject him ---.

"No, definitely not too much," you hastily assure him, aware you've no room to move. You're pressed up against him, and the bed is directly behind you. Cullen is a wonderful man, and you know if you ask him to leave, he will.

But you're not going too.

You're not strong enough to deny yourself a night with him if that's what he wants.

You like him too much.

"It's just ---, well." What are you supposed to say now, exactly? Why did you ask him to stop? "Oh --- nevermind."

You cup his rough jaw between your fingers as you kiss him again, throwing your inhibitions away completely --- you just want this one thing ---.

Cullens arms close tightly around you, holding you against him. You slip your fingers down his jaw, trailing them against his neck until you reach his furred collar. You slip beneath it, urging him to let it fall, to get it out of your way.

The sound of his armor hitting the floor is so satisfying.

Your lips are soft and yet demanding, and the commander has never been so eager to undress before --- he's more eager now then even his first time! His chest plate clanks as it hits the stone floor, the cool air rushing against his bare skin and causing goosebumps.

Finally!

Oh wow.

You brush your fingers against his shoulders, pleased at how firm they are, how... very muscled. He keeps in shape despite he's restrained to papers and strategies. 

You notice the scars, the thin white lines that decorate his skin, each telling a story of his life. His hard, strenuous life. 

Your eyes flick up to his.

"Are you sure about this?" You're not even sure why you ask him that, your hand resting against the center of his chest. His skin is so warm, and you can feel his heart, hammering hard against your touch.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he murmurs, and before you can breathe another word he's kissing you, his talented fingers tugging on the buttons of your shirt.

So you're doing this then.

You relax, helping him drag your shirt off, your trousers, his --- why does he have to wear so much clothing!?

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips fighting the control from his; his very touch is like electricity against your skin, and it has been since the first time he touched you. 

Is it just lust? 

Your eyes close as his lips trail down your slender throat, planting butterfly kisses along the exposed skin. So soft and warm under his lips, he wants to take his time devouring every inch of you, letting his mouth miss no curve. He doubts he'll ever get another opportunity like this, and he wants --- he wants ---.

You've certainly never wanted a man so badly as you do the one kissing you before --- his very touch makes your skin prickle, just his gaze makes you have to shift your weight. You've always had such a ridiculous crush on him, well, you allowed yourself to have it because you thought nothing would ever come of it.

You're pleased you were wrong.

Cullen is determined he's going to give you the night of your life as soon as he gets all your clothing off of you. His hand curves around the back of your neck, making sure you can't break away from him as his free hand teasingly begins to draw its way down your torso, finding very little fabric remaining. 

Hmm.

He brushes his fingers across your outer thigh before they wrap around it, causing you to gasp as he's abruptly lifting you up into his arms. You hastily wrap your legs around his bare waist, feeling a rush of heat flow through your body. Cullen grins at you as you clench your hands on his shoulders, letting him carry you brazenly to the side of your bed, apparently intent before someone changes their mind.

You've never been so hot in your life.

It's the way he sits you down though, so gentle, like you'll break if he's too rough. You lean back on your hands, your thighs wide where he still stands between them. You're gazing up at him, the firelight casting shadows across your body, but he can still see the desire in your eyes, and his are drawn to your parted, swollen lips.

He kisses you once, just a swift, rough brush of his lips before he's dropping to his knees. You stare at him as his fingers hook in what's left of your clothing, his eyes catching yours as he begins to draw it down your lovely thighs. You lift your hips obediently, giving him exactly what he wants.

Your chest is already on full display, and he intends to admire that at a later date --- right now he wants you moaning in pleasure, to feel your thighs squeeze as he brings you to the highest of ecstasies --- hear his name as you cry out.

Cullen doesn't say a word, he doesn't have too, and you doubt you can at this point. The air seems so heavy with the desire between you too, and you're afraid that if you speak, the moment will shatter into a thousand pieces. You've admittedly thought about it so many times, it's still hard to believe that it's happening.

You bite your lower lip as Cullen feathers your thighs in kisses, his breath warm, causing you to shiver. Your stomach tightens the closer he gets to your heat, obviously taking his time, making sure each moment counts.

He nuzzles your sensitive skin, your thighs twitching where he holds them open. You're already wet, you can't help it. Your skin is crawling with anticipation of his touch, his lips, all of him. You're nervous and excited at the same time, and when he finally touches you, when his teasing digits softly rub against your heat, you can't help but moan as your head tilts back.

Cullen's eyes are on your face as he caresses your wet skin, pleased immediately. He's going to put all of his talents to use tonight, and he's going to make sure you cum one way or another, even if it takes him all night. He tugs on your thighs, pulling them up onto his shoulders as his face disappears between them. 

He exhales against your heat teasingly before letting his tongue dart forward, circling your clit. You immediately attempt to shift, but his grip is iron on you, holding you still. Your fingers clench in your tangled sheets as his mouth works magic on you --- is this how the mages feel when they enchant? Because --- oh goodness --- nothing has ever felt so good!

Heat crackles against your skin, and your heart is suddenly hammering so hard against your chest you think it'll escape. You tighten your grip on the thick blankets, feeling like electricity is starting to crawl up your body through your very veins. Your eyes flutter closed as you focus on the feeling, of his tongue inside of you, his fingers lightly caressing your thighs as he pleasures you.

His fingers slips up your wet slit as he shows your clit attention, stroking your dampening skin. You're certainly not shy, he likes that, but you're not moaning yet, not like he wants. He suckles on your swollen bud as his finger sinks inside of you, finding your hot, squeezing muscles waiting for him.

Your teeth dig into your lower lip.

He slips a second digit inside of you, your arousal soaking his fingers and making it easy to move them inside of you. He curls and twists, all the while his tongue licks and massages until your clit is so sensitive it almost hurts! You squirm on the bed, your hand thoughtlessly reaching for that thick head of blonde hair.

Cullen groans as your nails rake lightly against his scalp, clenching in his lockes. He presses deeper inside of you until you clench, and he finds his underthings are very uncomfortable. The more he tastes you, hears your sharp breaths and soft gasps, the harder and harder it is for his self control.

He wants you so badly he's aching for you. 

But he wants to worship your body first, he wants to make you feel like you've never felt before. Every lick of his tongue is calculated, every thrust and twist of his fingers, he's gauging your reactions, finding what makes you drench his palm with desire.

Hmm.

You whimper as his mouth takes over from his hand, his tongue darting inside of you. You're so warm, and his mind is already on how you're going to feel around him. Your body clenching on his cock, how wet you are, how loud he's going to make you be by the time he gets ---.

"Cullen!" You suddenly breathe, your back suddenly arching off your bed as he pinches your clit, sending a spiral of fire so explosive through you you almost lose yourself then! You moan thoughtlessly, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Aha!

Pleased, Cullen repeats the gesture, rubbing circles with his thumb, his eyes flicking up to your face. Your fingers were caressing his hair, but now they're tense, and from the way you're soaking his tongue, you're getting closer to where he wants you. He doubles his efforts, kissing, sucking, and licking until you're trembling, your chest pushing towards the sky as you grow closer and closer to that peak.

It's almost overwhelming, the heat that's erupting across your skin. It's as if lava is seeping through your veins, you're so warm you can't hold still, it's impossible! Your stomach is so tight, and that pleasure, oh how it feels, it's been so long, and he's, he's so --- perfect.

Your free hand presses desperately against your lips, you don't want to get so loud someone hears you! 

Which is of course what Cullen wants precisely.

He's never been one to give in easily, he doesn't accept defeat, he fights til the end --- he's certainly going to win this battle. 

And he does.

You cry his name as finally you can't hold back, as all that building pressure seeks release. Your back arches as fireworks go off in your eyes, your body shuddering as the heat explodes inside of you. 

Cullen smirks, leaning back just enough to see your face as you collapse back onto the bed, panting. That's what he likes to hear.

He presses a soft kiss against your trembling thighs before getting to his feet, discarding what's left of his clothing hastily. His cock is throbbing, aching for attention he's denied it, but all he can think about is being inside of you, feeling your arms wrap around him and your lips against his ear, whispering all the things you want him to do to you.

He has, perhaps, thought about this before as well.

Many times.

"You're so good at that," you finally manage to say with a breathless laugh, opening your eyes reluctantly. Cullen flushes at the compliment, shrugging his shoulders as he presses one knee against the bed between your open legs. He braces his arms on either side of you, leaning down to give you a deep kiss, his tongue parting your lips to twine against your own.

You sigh, immediately reaching to wrap your arms around him, welcoming his weight onto you; for some reason, it makes you feel safe, having him there. There's something about his presence that's so comforting, and you're still tingling all over, the most relaxed you've been since all this Rift nonsense started.

"Cullen," you mumble against his lips, feeling his length against your body, how hard it is. You want to reach down, stroke him, wrap your lips around him and give him a taste of his own medicine, but he stops your hand when you start to shift.

"I just want you," he whispers huskily, and your eyes flash open to meet his, finding them dark and molten with lust. "I want to be inside of you, I want to feel you around me, (Y/N)."

Oh.

Maker.

You don't know what to say to that, so you just kiss him, your hands instead drawing down to his hips. You widen your legs, as if that's all the confirmation he needs.

Cullen shifts, his lips drawing down to your throat. He nips playfully, just enough to sting as his fingers find yours, curling through them tightly. You roll your head, giving him complete access to your throat --- you're absolutely his.

He could throw you out the window at this point and you'd like it.

You shift your hips as you feel him brush against your damp skin, and you eagerly tug on his side, urging him to hurry. You're still hungry for more of him, for more of his touch and his kisses and his, his ---.

He kisses you again, one last time before his length is brushing through your heat, letting your desire coat his skin. You moan into him, your fingers tightening against his where he has them pinned against the sheets. His head nudges your folds finally, and he slowly begins to thrust into you.

You both groan as your heat surrounds him, and he drives deep, curving his hips in just the right way to make your toes curl. He's so gentle at first, not too hard or fast, not until you're used to him. It's as if he's worshiping you, something you've never had before, not like this. Every brush of his lips, his fingers, the sweet words he's whispering in your ear --- you never expected this.

"Cullen," you breathe, your lips aching to kiss his --- you've never felt so close to someone before, the way he looks at you, it makes you feel so --- well, you don't want to get ahead of yourself, let your thoughts go too wild. 

His cheek nuzzles yours, your thighs drawing higher up his sides as his pace increases. Your nails rake against his lower back as you hold him closer, his chest brushing yours with every thrust and grind, every hot breath.

"Maker!" You finally gasp, clenching around him, finding that intense feeling wanting to take over all over again. Cullen chuckles breathlessly, his skin prickling from the heat, finding he's having a harder time maintaining control, keeping his pace, keeping his thoughts ---.

Well, he supposes he does have the rest of the night for his thoughts, but right now... right now his entire focus is on you.

Right now you're his everything.

~~~~~~~~

You're exhausted, and your eyes are closed as you lie in bed, the blankets pulled up beneath your arms as you rest on your side. The room is quiet except for the crackling of the fireplace, the wind as it hits your balcony doors.

You've never been so warm in this tower before.

Cullen sleeps behind you, his arm snug around your waist that's keeping you against him. You know it's getting close to dawn, that he should honestly be leaving so no one sees him escaping your room after sunrise, but you don't want him to go.

You're content right where you are, and at least he's getting some rest as well. His stamina is admirable, you'll give him that, and even without clothing, he's still so... his presence is just so enthralling, admirable, commanding --- you're trying to think of the word that describes him best, but you're failing.

Perfect comes to mind, but he would argue it.

Is this going to change your relationship? Well, obviously so, but your friendship? You don't want to lose that, you value his advice and opinion, even when you don't want to hear it or it goes against your own. He's your military adviser for a reason after all, and a damn good one.

Oh, what are you getting yourself in too? You shouldn't have slept with him! Already your mind is berating you, telling you what a bad decision you've just made, but you're choosing to ignore it. You just wanted this one night with him, and by Maker you certainly got it!

You don't regret any second of it.

Your hand stings, and your eyes flick open slightly, just enough to see the green curling around your fingertips.

It's supposed to go away, but it doesn't all the time, especially when your guard is down.

It's always with you, reminding your time is limited. So why shouldn't you enjoy it while you can? You don't want to hurt Cullen though, so perhaps this one night is all it will ever be. He might prefer it that way anyhow, maybe he doesn't want any attachments either.

But you don't want to talk to him about it, not ever. 

You close your eyes, deciding to ignore the Anchor, to ignore your feelings.

You just want to sleep, to drift off into dreamland and... well, why bother dreaming? At the moment, reality is much better than anything you could conjure up there. You have Cullen behind you, mumbling in his sleep and snuggling closer, and despite you're getting too warm, you don't dare move lest you disturb him.

Let him rest for once.

You'll deal with the consequences of this in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~

Cassandra is dying to know the details.

You're standing in the courtyard talking to one of the merchants, and she swears you look the most relaxed she's ever seen you. Your hair is down, and you're wearing a high collar today, gesturing with your hands like normal.

She's not going to say a word, but she was going to your quarters last night to talk something over with you, and just as her hand had rose to knock --- well, let's just the sound really does echo in your chambers.

Names specifically.

Cullen must really be good at his job.

Her dark eyes cut away from the dummies she's been hitting with her sword, exhaling heavily. She's very curious, and she wants to ask, was it like one of Varric's terribly written love scenes? Did it fulfill all your desires? Did he make your heart race and your body ache for his touch?

Cassandra frowns; she needs to stop reading those books.

"Cassandra, have you seen Leliana?"

Cassandra half turns, her eyes lighting on Cullen as he approaches her from across the courtyard, looking down at a map in his hands --- no, some kind of layout. "One of her messenger birds dropped this off for me, but I believe it needs her attention instead. Have you seen her?"

"Not today, no," she replies, one hand going to her hip as she rests the tip of her sword into the earth. Her eyes narrow as she looks at him, seeing how... at ease he appears, and is that a hickey on his throat!? His fur does nothing to hide it, and she wonders if he's aware of it.

Finally, the commander getting laid, she's sure his soldiers are having a field day with that little tid bit of gossip.

Cullen looks annoyed as he looks up from the map. "Dammit. Why does she always disappear?"

"She's a spymaster, what do you expect?" The Seeker shrugs her shoulders. "She'll be around again soon."

She has to bite her tongue against what she really wants to ask.

Her eyes trail behind him to where you stand, and you've noticed his presence, you're staring at him across the courtyard with this lovesick expression. You're still speaking to Bonny Sims, but Cassandra doubts you're listening anymore.

"Cullen."

"Hmm?" Cullen is focusing on his map, the paper rolled out between his leather gloves. He's caught up in his work again, oblivious to your presence.

"I believe the Inquisitor is looking for you," Cassandra says carefully, amused at how he immediately straightens, his cheeks heating at the mention of you. Her lips twitch, curving just at the corner as he hastily turns around to look for you.

Well, he's certainly not good at hiding anything, he's never been good at a bluff. It's why he always loses at Wicked Grace.

What in the world are the two of you going to do?

"Oh, yes, I --- she is." Cullen manages, hesitating. What should he do? Should he talk to you?

You were asleep when he left, and by left he hastily gathered his clothes and dressed as he went down the steps --- not because he was escaping your room but because he was very late to dawn training. None of his soldiers could find him, or knew better then to do so.

"Shouldn't you see what she wants?" Cassandra asks in amusement, and Cullen turns to look at her.

"Should I?" 

"Yes." Cassandra bites her lip against a smile. "You should."

"Right. Yes. I should." The commander nods to himself, curling up the plans he holds. He starts walking in your direction purposefully.

The Seeker chuckles.

Maker, it's going to get interesting now.


End file.
